New Ending - What If Ralph Was Never Saved?
by Erin Audrey
Summary: {{For my English class I had to rewrite the ending to Lord of the Flies, and this is it. I had a lot of fun doing it, and was extremely proud of the final copy. I only got 85% though TuT}} The boat never comes, and Ralph is murdered. The tribe is alone in a burning forest, and must survive.


_He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher. He saw a shelter burst into flames and the fire flapped at his right shoulder and there was the glitter of water. Then he was down, rolling over and over in the warm sand, crouching with arm to ward off, trying to cry for mercy._

0o0o0o0o0o0

Ralph stumbled over a root, falling face first into the scorching sand. He was on the shore, nowhere to run except for straight back into Jack, Roger, and the stick sharpened at both ends. The boy knew this was the end while losing all his adrenaline he clawed at the sand, straining his sore, weak muscles to turn himself around. His bruised back screamed as the fiery hot sand burned it, but he had no time to worry about his injuries when Ralph saw Jack standing over him, Roger in the smirking in the background. Knowing all his pain would soon be mere scars on his lifeless body, used his last ounce of energy to spit on Jack's face.

"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Bash him in!" was ringing in his ears. An indescribable pain shot through his body, making every other injury he ever suffered as benign as a simple scrape on his knee. Ralph's head felt light. He could hear everything from the footsteps of the savages; once innocent children - gathering around - Roger's sniggering, and Jack's heavy breathing to the buzzing of the bees miles away and the crackling of the blazing island; now nothing but fire. He felt the knife being ripped out of his and the sun instantly began boiling his blood. Ralph tried to keep his tear-filled eyes open, knowing if they closed they'd stay that way. Fearful of death, it seemed comforting knowing he only had to suffer for a little bit more – although he wasn't too fond of what his inevitable outcome was. Soon, his torn chest stopped moving.

"Go on, then." Roger scoffed impatiently. "Cut his head off, Jack."

Jack, still consumed in his pride, knelt back down and dug his knife into his old friend's neck. The littluns turned, not wanting to see any more. Samneric gulped, looking at one another. Roger pushed the spear into the sand deep enough so that it wouldn't topple over under its own weight. Jack, carrying the bodiless head lifted it on the top, blood spewing everywhere.

"Now we can have fun." He announced.

"B-but Jack..." whimpered a small savage, "the fire."

The tribe broke their gaze off the head, and turned to see the entire forest consumed in an orange flame. "It'll go out. Until then, we can sleep here."

"Here?" said Sam, Eric nodding in agreement.

"Don't be such a wimp." Roger spat aggressively.

"What about... the body?" chokingly asked another savage.

"We'll let it burn. Sacrifice it to the fire so it won't hurt us." Jack responded, ignoring the strange looks that were given to him. "Someone grab the shoulders, Roger will help me with its ( legs."

Roger stepped forward, and glared at Samneric. "You two, get it." Nervously, the twins each grabbed a sandy, blood soaked shoulder. Their fingers slipping, they struggled to lift what used to be Ralph.

"Everyone can stay here and start up a temporary camp, then we'll do our dance when we get back." Jack announced.

By time the four boys retuned, the sky threatened to pour down upon them as thunder boomed in the distance. Everyone was huddled under a fallen tree, a few branches leaning against it had to be held down by the bigger boys. A flying branch whizzed past Jack, missing the mask of his face by inches. "I told you all!" He boasted triumphantly. "The fire is like the beast – we just had to make a sacrifice."

The tribe was gathered under a fallen tree, struggling to find sleep. By time the storm died down, the sun had risen. Everyone crawled out and stretched their legs. Some littluns coughed, their throats filled with ash and sand. Two of the youngest children, William and Shawn, walked away, going towards the clean water.

The rest of the tribe did their dance, taking turns to be the pig. Everyone ignored their hunger and thirst, happy that the fire was out. People were laughing, until a horrific scream erupted from the forest.

Sprinting toward the screech, the group was stopped by a blackened tree which had fallen on top of William, tear stains in his face paint, and a branch stabbing him straight through his hip. "Please!" He cried breathlessly. Samneric instantly tired pushing the logs off him, only burning their hands.

"It's useless; he's going to die." Roger snarled.

"Please, no!" screamed William,

"You shut up, Roger! You're sick, you know that, right?" Eric hollered, trying to pull William out.

"Fine, I'll help," He growled coldly. He walked forward, and stabbed his spear into the poor boy's head without a moment's hesitation.

The fighting broke out, Jack stabbing Sam and Eric each in the back of the neck, Roger attacking the younger ones. Everyone was screaming profanities, the bloodshed indiscriminately like on a battle field.

The sole survivors were Jack and Roger. They were covered in dirt, sweat, blood and sand. Roger walked across the opening toward Jack. Jack turned quickly, still in a daze. Roger smirked devilishly. "Why the hell are you so happy?" Jack accused

"You're a shit leader. Look, you've killed everyone."

"Me?! This was all your fau-agh!" Jack screamed, feeling a spear rip through his thigh. He dropped his knife, and fell to the ground. He stretched out his limbs, unable to grab his only defence, the knife. Roger seemed to notice it too, as he began racing to grab it. Jack took the opportunity to roll over, and in one swift move he thrust it upwards into Roger's chest. He fell onto him, but Jack pushed him off, ripping the knife in-and-out of Roger mercilessly. He was so caught in his rage, the boy never felt the strong, clean hand pulling him away. He was flat on his back when he opened his tear-filled eyes. A ship came into focus, an elderly man staring at him in shock.

6


End file.
